Archer's Choice
by Mr. Pedant
Summary: After Dumbledore places baby Harry on the Dursley's porch, Harry is kidnapped by a mysterious stranger, changing his life forever. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, and various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury books, Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended

**Author's Note: **This is my first attempt at fanfiction. Please review. Constructive criticism is optimal!

Chapter One

Fireworks lit the air over all of Britain as wizards and witches raised their drinks to the velvet night sky: Voldemort was dead, and Harry Potter, just a baby, had lived. Meanwhile, a tall old man in long robes strode away from a huge castle to the edge of the nearby forest. He raised his wand, but froze at the sound of a deep voice.

"Albus Dumbledore." The low voice came from a broad shouldered man who seemed to appear between two trees. He was dressed in leather, and wore a cowl that almost completely covered his face, He walked forwards until the two were mere inches apart.

Dumbledore sighed, looking unsurprised. "Hello Archer. Have you run out of people to terrorize in America?"

"Hardly." Dumbledore knew Archer was grinning. "I just like to be where the excitement is."

"I'm afraid you missed out then. Voldemort is dead, his Death Eaters beaten. There was a war and people died!" Albus shouted, close to losing his cool.

Archer turned to look at the fireworks over Hogsmeade as he replied. "Deaths including, it seems, James and Lily Potter. What will you do with the boy? Tuck him away?"

"Harry will be sent to his closest relatives, where the Blood Ward will keep him safe until he is of age." The old man replied coldly.

"Why keep him safe when the war is over unless..." Archer's voice trailed off as he spun back around. "...Voldemort survived as well? In that case train the boy! You know the prophecy!"

"Yet nothing is certain. Now, I believe you've grated on my nerves enough for one night. Goodbye Archer." Dumbledore disappeared with a crack.

On a rooftop of Privet Drive, Archer watched as Dumbledore and McGonagall argued quietly until Hagrid arrived, giving Harry to Dumbledore to place on the porch of number four. After they left, he walked up and knelt by the child and muttered. "Geminio Maxima." He gasped as the magic left him, creating an identical baby Harry. Picking up the real one, he vanished.

**Around Seven Years later**

Harry Potter rolled out of his bed and ran downstairs. It was his eighth birthday. He found that Nellie and Nicholas were already awake in the kitchen,and greeted them sleepily. He knew they weren't his real father and mother. Apparently as a baby, he had somehow defeated some bad guy and his parents died. Then he had been kidnapped, and for some reason had been taken to Devon and given to this couple to raise. It was confusing, but for now, all he cared about was breakfast and the four presents in the middle of the dining table. The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Harry rushed to the front door. Maybe it was Ben, his schoolmate, and best friend, though he hadn't expected him this early in the morning. As the door opened, he yelped as he found himself staring not at Ben's pudgy face, but a pair of leather clad legs. Which were attached to a rather large, hooded figure.

"Happy Birthday Harry! I'm Archer." The man rumbled. He threw back his hood and bent down to shake Harry's hand. Archer had short blond hair, a square jaw, and light blue eyes. His expressive mouth was currently giving Harry a wide smile.

"I'm the bloke that kidnapped you." He remarked cheerfully.

"Er..." Harry almost fell over, confused and slightly frightened. Archer had made that shocking statement in the most normal of tones.

"For your birthday, the first gift I'll give you is an explanation of who you are and why I kidnapped you." Oblivious to Harry's reaction, Archer led him into the kitchen as he continued talking. "My parents have already told you that you are a wizard, and partially described the wizarding world which you will eventually return to. Hi mom, dad!" He broke off to treat the couple to a roguish grin and a affectionate hug.

Nellie was old, with wispy white hair, brown eyes and a heart shaped face. Nicholas was small and spidery, but his bright hazel eyes betrayed the mind of a genius.

"It's been years between visits, Archie!" Nellie scolded him. "And why do you wear those leather clothes in the middle of summer!" She smacked his arm lightly, then drew him into a hug.

Nicholas, as per usual, hardly spoke, but returned his son's embrace with a contented smile before returning to his breakfast.

"Sorry mum!" Archer extricated himself and resumed speaking. "Harry, after Voldemort was killed, you were found alive, but your parents had died protecting you. Albus Dumbledore, one of the most powerful wizards alive, planned to take you to the Dursleys, the closest thing to family you have.

Normally no one would have had any problems with that, but the Dursleys are one of the nastier families of muggles out there. They hate magic, and disliked your parents, whom they considered freaks for simply being a good witch and wizard. You would not have been happy there."

"Why would he send me there then?" Harry blurted.

Archer grimaced. "Living with them would have protected you via a thing called a Blood Ward, which is a bit of ancient and powerful magic. The fact that Albus wanted you to be protected, not nurtured, confirmed my suspicion that when Voldemort fell, he did not completely die. If he didn't die, that means he will return. And I wanted you to be healthy, happy, and aware of your magic to better prepare you. I will also train you until it is time for you to enter Hogwarts and the rest of the wizarding world, soon after your eleventh birthday."

"But doesn't Du- Dumbledore know that I'm gone?" Harry asked.

"No," said Archer, grinning wickedly. He seemed to enjoy smiling. "That night I performed a rather complex version of the Geminio spell, which made an exact living copy of you, that would grow up, live and react exactly how you would have if you were in that awful situation. It's seriously hampered my magical strength, because it constantly requires energy to keep it going. It's necessary however, and when you go off to Hogwarts I will end the spell, and hopefully nobody will be the wiser."

"So is Vol-de-mort actually alive?" Harry queried, wishing all these people had simpler names. Despite all the crazy things Archer had said, he felt like the man was trustworthy.

"We believe so." Nicholas spoke up, startling Harry. "For much of the last six years Archer has been searching for any signs of him. He has found whispers of a specter that haunts the land, some say it possesses animals and turns them crazy before draining their life force and moving on. We're unsure how much of that is fact, but that could be him. Dumbledore also believed that Voldemort did not completely perish, and whatever may be said about the man, he is incredibly wise."

"If he's so incredibly wise, why didn't you let things happen how he wanted?" Harry was confused.

Archer smirked. "Well, I'm no idiot myself, and I also have this nasty ability to look into the future, though I never get to choose what I see. One day I had a vision of you being raised by the Dursleys, then Voldemort coming back, defeating the Ministry of Magic and killing muggles indiscriminately. So I decided to try and change the future."

Harry gaped. Archer seemed to have quite a knack for stating the grandiose. When he closed his mouth he remembered that he had one more question.

"Are you really their son?" He asked, wondering because they were serious people, and short, while he was tall, muscular, and jovial. They also looked very old, while he must only be in his thirties.

"We're not blood relations, nor am I adopted, but they are the closest things to parents I'll ever have." Archer looked tenderly at them. "You're a bright kid, Harry. Now go open those presents!"

OoOoO

There's my first chapter. Short, but I know they're gonna get longer. Once again, Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Here's the second chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter two

"Quickly, they're coming!" Harry tried to shut out Archer's whispering as he struggled to free his hands, as he lay in the sweltering heat. They were tied by tough vines. He had tried to flex his wrists as he'd been tied, to loosen the vines a bit, but it hadn't worked so well. Then their captors trussed them up and threw them in adjacent cages, about six feet in diameter. Once the guard changed, Archer just seemed to wiggle a bit and the ropes practically fell off him. Harry had a harder time, but he was a child, and naturally flexible, so when he pulled and squirmed he finally freed his hands. He could hear the guards approaching, yelling loudly, as he lunged towards Archer. When their hands met, Archer performed Side-Along Apparition just as a stunner spell flew towards them.

Harry's stomach lurched as the world revolved sickeningly before screeching to a halt. Retching a couple of times, he finally got his stomach under control. Apparition made him nauseous.

He suddenly realized that he had heard no movement beside him. Whirling around, he saw that Archer was slumped on the stone floor, unconscious but breathing. So the stunner had hit after all. It was lucky they hadn't splinched or Apparated to China or something. Harry scowled as he realised he just had to wait, helpless, until Archer woke up naturally.

Looking around, he smiled as he recognized the huge circular room, filled with strange objects. It was only lit through the open trap door in the middle of the ceiling, as the lights were off. The trap door was reachable by a sturdy wooden step-ladder. They had made it to the basement of the Lighthouse.

The Lighthouse was Archer's current home, consisting of a tall stone tower and an adjoining building. Built on the western coastline of Scotland, it used to be a real lighthouse, but then more popular fishing areas were discovered, and it was abandoned, as it was no longer needed.

Years later Archer moved in, placing countless wards on it, including the Repello Muggletum, and amazingly, the Fidelius. It had many floors, mostly full of Archer's odds and ends, but there were normal places you'd expect in a house, like bedrooms and a kitchen. There was also the three levels below the lantern room, the very top of the tower, which Archer had told him was off limits. The lantern room had glorious views of the wild sea on one side, and the Scottish Highland on the other.

After his seventh birthday, Archer had taken Harry there, and began to teach him wandless magic, among other things. "I'm starting you young," he had explained, "because children are naturally more sensitive to their magical core. But when given a wand, they are more than happy to wave it around for the rest of their lives, forgetting what it's like to _feel_ magic. It's near impossible to teach them then."

Harry noticed Archer never carried a wand unless it was just for the appearance of it, on their occasional excursions out into the wizarding world, and he never wore robes, always preferring his leather garb or other, more muggle style, clothes. It was his opinion that wizarding technology (and fashion) had no reason to be stuck in the dark ages, so he continued to keep himself, and Harry, familiar with the latest muggle innovations.

Learning wandless magic was a slow process, but a deeply satisfying one. It had taken him a week of mental self-searching to find his magic and found it wasn't in a specific part of him, it was everywhere. He could now perform many simple spells wandlessly with relative ease, but _Rennervate, _unfortunately for Archer, was still beyond him.

The three years he had lived with Archer were packed with adventure, because Archer was a self acclaimed 'restless spirit'. So there would be mornings Harry would be woken up and told, "Pack up. We're off!" And they would Apparate away to India, or California, or the Seychelles, or practically anywhere, if Archer had been aiming darts at his World Map the previous night. They would spend anywhere from a week to two months there. Harry met countless new people, (Muggles and Wizards alike) learned some words in new languages, (like Spanish or Gobbledegook) and learned new things, like which Quidditch teams you shouldn't place money on.

"Mmfhg!" Fairly sure that Archer hadn't meant to challenge him for leadership of the tribe in Troll, Harry helped him sit up.

"How are you feeling?" He asked anxiously as Archer rubbed his forehead.

"Oh, I've been worse." The man grumbled. Then he laughed, saying "Those Peruvian wizards weren't too friendly, were they?"

Harry smirked as he replied. "They seemed to think you were blaspheming their gods when you did some wandless magic."

"Aye. Wands are a crutch, Harry. Take their wooden sticks away, and even a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore is severely weakened." This was a common rant of Archer's, almost a mantra. "Now," Archer continued. "let's go upstairs and unpack."

They ascended the stepladder, and Harry flicked the light switch, revealing a comfy living room and kitchen. He was facing the stone door leading out of the tower. To his left was a winding staircase, which he followed to his bedroom. Taking his suitcase out of his pocket (it wasn't currently much bigger than a deck of cards), he mentally reached for his magic and said "Finite Incantatem!" He gave a pleased smile as it grew to it's actual size. A few minutes later Archer yelled, "Harry! Come down, please!"

Harry rushed down to see Archer sitting in a recliner, holding a sealed letter in one hand, and petting Horus, Nellie's Egyptian owl, with his other. Another owl was flying around the room giving agitated hoots. Archer wasn't smiling as he handed the letter to Harry.

"This letter was intended for your 'twin' in Privet Drive." He explained. "Horus managed to intercept it. It's from Hogwarts."

Harry took the yellowed paper and turned it over. It was addressed to Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

Cupboard under the stairs! Harry and Archer had gone and spied on the miserable fate of his clone a couple times, but it still shocked him that anyone would be treated that way. Whatever Dumbledore's intentions, Harry was angry at the man for being willing to abandon him to such a fate.

Harry read through the acceptance letter, and the list of required books and apparel. He looked up and asked "What happens now?"

The man rubbed his jaw. Finding scraggly hairs, he muttered some words and they disappeared, before he replied.

"Good question, Harry. We're now posed with a problem of my own making since I kidnapped you. Here's what we'll do...

An hour later, Archer and Harry appeared on the front steps of the Dursley's house. Archer hugged Harry. "You're a good kid. Just remember the plan and it will all go fine. You're going to love Hogwarts."

Harry blinked away tears as he looked up at the man. "Thank you for, for -" He stopped. He still didn't know why Archer and his parents had done so much for him.

"For kidnapping you?" Archer chuckled as Harry nodded. "Kid, you are very welcome. Now come on!"

Archer turned the handle on the Dursley's front door; it wasn't locked. Easing quietly inside followed by Harry, he stopped by the cupboard under the stairs, and heard ragged breathing from inside it. He bent down and whispered, "Finite Incantatem!" The breathing stopped.

Harry could actually feel it as huge amount of power rushed into Archer, making his hair prickle. Archer opened the numerous bolts securing the door, which swung open, to reveal the now empty cupboard. It was filled mostly by a small mattress, a shelf with various odds and ends that must have been important to his clone, and a toilet in the corner. A bare lightbulb hung low, shedding weak, yellow light. Harry struggled to fit inside the cupboard. His clone's growth had been stunted due to his bad treatment here.

"Good luck, Harry!" Archer whispered. "I took the liberty of hiding birthday presents from me and my parents in your suitcase before you shrunk it. Don't open them until your birthday! Always remember. Stick to the plan!" He shut and bolted the door, leaving a very cramped Harry. With his ear to the door, Harry heard Archer's footsteps as they presumably made their way towards were the Dudleys were having lunch. Suddenly shrieks and yells rang out. Harry grinned. Dressed all in leather, with his cowl up and a swirling red cape for effect, he imagined that Archer made quite an imposing figure. Being six-foot-four didn't hurt either. Harry heard a muffled "Obliviate!" then all was quiet. Footsteps went by him once more, and after more whispered goodbyes, there was a sharp crack and Harry was alone.

Curling up in the tiny area, Harry mentally worked through the plan again. Their first order of business had been to send an acceptance letter back via the Hogwarts owl they had caught. Harry used a pen; growing up in a muggle home meant that he wouldn't have ink quills. So he wrote:

_Dear Professor McGonagall,_

_Is this some kind of joke? Magic and wizards and stuff? This owl delivered your message while I was at a park and started to follow me around, so I snuck home to write a reply._

_I really want all of this to be true, but even if it was there are a lot of problems. My aunt and uncle hate anything unnatural. I'm sure they would lock me up if they knew about this letter. Wands and Spellbooks aren't exactly advertised in any newspapers, either, so I wouldn't know how to get your school materiels._

_Can you help me? A good time to talk would be tonight at 6 pm. The Dursleys watch this Insult to Injury TV show for like three hours during that time. I realize you could be psycho kidnappers or something, but I don't care much at this point._

_Confusedly,_

_Harry Potter_

With any luck, they would take it at face value. Archer hoped they would send Hagrid, who was apparently easier to fool. Harry didn't like fooling anyone, but he also didn't want to get Archer in trouble for taking care of him for so long.

Harry woke with a start, as his watch beeped quarter till six. He had dozed off! Stuffing his robe in his suitcase, he took out some oversized muggle clothes that might have been hand-me-downs from Dudley, and put them on. Then he bent his glasses a bit, slightly cracking the left frame. Shrinking his case again, he slipped it in his pocket and put a hand on the door. "Alohomora!" he whispered repeatedly, and each time heard a bolt slide back or a lock open. He pushed the door open and eased into the hall. The television was blaring. Maybe there actually was a show at this time called _Insult to Injury_. The Dursleys seemed to constantly watch television, so he thought his escape was a pretty safe bet.

"And just where do you think you're going, boy?" A voice bellowed as he crashed through the front door, balancing seven large pizzas. Around said pizzas Harry could see a short beefy man, with almost no neck, and a startlingly red face. Uncle Vernon.

"I - I just need a drink!" Harry croaked very convincingly. Truthfully, he had just been startled by Vernon's sudden appearance. Of all the bad luck...

"How did you get out of there?" Vernon squinted inquisitively as he balanced the pizzas on the stair railing, and began advancing towards Harry, menacing arms outstretched. He hadn't seemed to notice that anything was amiss about Harry. Archer's memory charm had worked perfectly.

"It was unlocked! Honest!" Harry protested hopelessly as Vernon shoved him back in the cupboard and locked it. His uncle proceeded to retrieve the pizza and thunder towards the living room.

With a sigh, Harry unlocked the door again. He was now an expert at Alohomora.

Before leaving the house, he placed a letter with a forged Hogwarts seal on the doormat, addressed to Vernon.

Walking down Privet Drive, he yelped as a gigantic figure walked towards him, asking, "Is that you, Harry?"

OoOoO

There it is! Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the little delay. School is starting up again, so I needed some time to get back into the swing of things.

Chapter 3

Harry smiled as he walked along next to Hagrid through the wonderful, winding streets of Diagon Alley. Yesterday evening, after getting over his fright at Hagrid's size, he had come to like the huge man.

But he still hated playing the fool. While taking the train up to London, Harry was forced to ask tons of questions about the wizarding world and his parents, whose answers he already knew, but wouldn't if he had grown up with the Dursleys. It was a tiring job, and Hagrid's discomfort at saying Voldemort's name, and near tears while recounting his parent's death didn't help matters.

It was late afternoon, and the pair had already visited Gringott's, Ollivander's, and all the other shops containing school supplies. To top it all off, Hagrid had bought Harry a beautiful white owl as a early birthday present. So despite the annoyance of playing dumb, he was extremely happy.

"Sorry, what did you say, Hagrid?" Harry realized the groundskeeper had addressed him.

"Like I just said, you don't leave for Hogwarts for almost five weeks, and I'm needed back at Hogwarts. It'd be a crime to send yer back to the Dursleys-."

Hagrid paused as a familiar man walked around the corner of Flourish and Blotts, headed straight towards him.

"Archer Latham" Hagrid growled, his eyebrows pulling together. "What brings you 'ere?"

"Hello, Hagrid." Archer smiled pleasantly. He looked quite small next to Hagrid. "Sometimes it seems as if all roads lead to London, despite it being on a very small island. In fact, I've been traveling for the last couple of years, looking for signs of your missing Dark Lord. Running into one of the wizarding world's youngest celebrities is merely a twist of fate. Hello, Mr. Potter. Nice to meet you." Archer stuck out his hand.

"Likewise, Mr. Latham." Harry replied thoughtfully, shaking his hand politely. He had never heard Archer's last name before.

"He looks quite healthy for living with his relatives. Lily and James told me all about them, so I'm surprised he's in such good knack."

Archer raised an eyebrow at Harry to tell him he meant no offense for referring to him like a stray dog. Archer didn't want to appear too familiar with Harry. Harry just stared back. Archer had known his parents?

"Harry," growled Hagrid, "was treated terribly by those ruddy Dursleys. He did notice, however, that the soy milk his pig of a cousin forced him to drink somehow made him bigger." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Rather than question Harry's good health as well, Hagrid had bought the lie Harry had told him.

"Either Dumbledore's up to his old tricks or I need to buy some soy milk." Archer replied, making Harry stifle a laugh. "Goodbye, Hagrid, Potter. Give my regards to Albus."

With that the wizard swept jauntily away, not feeling the glares Hagrid was giving him.

"Why don't you like him, Hagrid? He seems nice to me." Harry tugged at Hagrid's sleeve. It was an honest question, and further meetings would be awkward for him if they were at odds with each other, because he liked both of them.

"Tha's not my place to tell, Harry. To get back on topic, I'm afraid you've got to go back to your relatives until school starts. I hate leaving you, but I got stuff to do." Hagrid looked quite distressed.

"I'll be fine, Hagrid. I'll just drink lots of soy milk.'' Harry's grin hid his own misgivings. He had only met Uncle Vernon for two nasty minutes. What would five weeks be like with Dudley and Petunia as well?"

OoOoO

Albania! This was the best lead he'd gotten in years. The goblin clans seemed to have their fingers in everything, so being one of their few human friends was incredibly useful. Pausing to make sure he had all of his equipment, he disappeared.

"Whoa!" Struggling to regain his balance, Archer stumbled away from the small pit he had almost Apparated into. Pulling himself together, he looked around him. He was in a forest, rising and falling with the mountainous region the trees grew on. Rising up to his right was a mountain. Mount Korab, if he remembered correctly.

Archer began a fast jog towards the left ridge of the mountain, his steps hardly making a sound. He saw a lynx and a pine marten, who studiously ignored him as he ran past.

When he heard a click in front of him, pure instinct made him fling himself to the ground, as two bullets whined past him. He quickly got behind a tree, thinking. That was no hunting rifle. He was most likely facing a small group of bandits. Maybe he could talk his way out of this. Struggling to recall his rudimentary knowledge of Albanian, he shouted a greeting, then flinched as another bullet chipped some bark off his tree. Maybe not.

He swung up into the tree, climbing roughly twenty feet to a wide branch before looking down. He hadn't fired back, so they were slowly flanking his position. There were three of them, armed with what looked like old Springfields. Muttering some words, he fused their triggers until they were immobile, rendering the guns useless. Magic wasn't fair, but he really didn't have time for this.

Squatting down, he jumped outwards explosively, leaping out directly above one man, who looked up just in time to break Archer's fall with his face. The other two men started swearing loudly when they realized their guns no longer worked.

Running towards the closest man, Archer slid under his waiting fists, knocking him over then pressing a nerve on his neck, making his face go slack.

The last man grinned as he took out a very long knife. He didn't twirl it around, and was balanced perfectly on the balls of his feet. This guy knew how to fight. Archer mumbled a few words, and a stick behind the knife-wielder cracked, distracting him just long enough to be knocked unconscious.

Archer sighed as he searched the men, relieving them of that knife, some Albanian currency, and a particularly nasty looking flask of booze. These were really low-grade bandits.

Two days later, he found it. A small shack, cleverly concealed at the feet of Mount Korab. Removing several wards that did particularly nasty things to those unauthorized to enter took another two days of work. He slowly entered the shack, springing aside as a magical dart whistled by him as he opened the door, then returning to thudding into the rotting wood.

Looking around the empty room, his heart sank. Frustrated, he threw the bandit's blade deep into the wall. It was clear that very dark magic had been performed here, but the place had been uninhabited for months. He was too late.

OoOoO

Albus Dumbledore raised an eyebrow as a disheveled Archer walked into his office. The other one rose as Archer banished some blood off of a shoe and used a neatening-up charm on himself.

"You are very nearly late for your job interview, Mr. Latham. I was inclined to think your application for Assistant Professor wasn't serious."

"Hello Albus!" Archer cheerfully stuck out his hand. He was holding a sealed plastic bag. "Care for some Froot Loops? They're an American breakfast cereal, but I find they make a tasty little treat."

In spite of himself, the curious Headmaster tried some.

"I assure you I am completely serious." Archer continued. "Let me tell you why should you hire me. I have extensive magical knowledge and skills, and I've been told I am good with children. Plus, I'm not sure how you could pass up the opportunity to order me around."

Dumbledore's lips twitched, but he said, "Not good enough, Latham."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts needs continuity, Albus. As an Assistant Professor, I believe the curse wouldn't apply to me, and I could make sure students are constantly improving to meet their O.W.L., N.E.W.T., and..." Archer paused "... survival requirements."

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a couple moments, before giving his verdict. He looked like someone preparing to drink a particularly nasty potion. "Very well, Archer. I believe you will find the North - East tower to your liking. Welcome to Hogwarts."

OoOoO

Harry shrunk the last of Dudley's old appliances and shoved it into a closet. The forged Hogwarts letter Archer had sent the Dursley's had worked wonders, scaring them enough to give Harry Dudley's second bedroom. Even so, the last week had only been bearable due to the thought of his upcoming birthday and Hogwarts. When he stayed in his room they mostly left him alone to read his new schoolbooks, but outside that door was a whole different matter.

Vernon shouted at him, cuffed him, and ordered him around, while Petunia forced him to tend the garden, cook, wash, and any other chore she could think of. But Dudley was the worst. Still much bigger than Harry, he seemed to make it his personal mission to make up for the ten years of injustices Harry had missed by getting kidnapped by Archer. Harry just wished he knew some good wandless hexes.

Finally his birthday had arrived, and Petunia started it off by generously giving him three paper clips, and making him cook pancakes for Dudley.

As soon as he was able, Harry retreated up to his room, opened his trunk, and unshrunk three brightly wrapped gifts. Archer had sent him a pair of school shoes, with a short note attached:

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday! These shoes are magically enchanted to complement whatever clothes you are wearing at the time. However, the real secret is when you tap them with your wand, and say 'Silencio.' Then no movement or sound you make, except for speaking, will be heard! See you soon!_

_- Archer_

Harry immediately put them on, and they became a pair of grungy old sneakers to match Dudley's over sized hand-me-downs he was still wearing. Then he activated them, following Archer's instructions.

Moving about the room, he made no noise. It was eerie, how he couldn't hear his own breathing, or the sound of his shirt rustling against his skin. He silently clapped his hands. He noiselessly stomped his foot.

"This is so cool!" He said, startling himself.

Nellie and Nicholas had sent him two books. The first was titled _Tips and Tricks for Magical studies._ It would undoubtedly help him at Hogwarts. The second was called _A Nearly Complete Guide to the Wizarding World. _Nicholas explained by letter that it looked like a huge table of contents until you tapped your wand on the subject you were interested in, and a chapter or so regarding the subject would appear.

Hagrid had apparently decided that buying an owl for Harry (who named it Hedwig) was not enough, so he sent him a large cake as well, flown in by three very tired owls, who somehow managed to avoid being seen by Vernon.

It was not Harry's best birthday, because his friends were too far away and his family was far too close, but the letters and gifts managed to distract him from the Dursleys for a while. He was tempted to send thank you's back via Hedwig, but he didn't want Vernon to know that owls delivered letters until he was in a truly desperate situation.

The month of August seemed to decide that Harry's time with the Dursleys was precious, so it dragged it's feet and dawdled, apparently enjoying the amount of punishment Harry was taking. One morning, Harry finished the last piece of his stale birthday cake, and magically escaped from his room, which Vernon had locked him in after pranking Dudley with his new noiseless shoes.

"Uncle Vernon?" He asked as he helped himself to a sandwich.

"Ye- How did you manage to get out?" The man spluttered, his face turning various shades of red, including one that matched the curtains.

"Oh. Dudley was getting bored, so he let me out. It's kind of hard to hit someone when they're locked away, you know. Anyways, tomorrow my school train leaves from King's Cross Station . Will you take me there?"

"And why would I do that?"

"It means you wouldn't see me for nine months. Duh." Harry knew he would probably pay for his attitude, but he really had to get to London.

"Fine, but only because there's a Grunnings conference later that day." After agreeing, Vernon still looked incensed at the thought of helping Harry.

"Get out, boy!" Suddenly he could see again, and Harry was hauled, dazedly, into the parking lot at King's Cross Station. Vernon must have decided that Harry's luggage, as well as Hedwig, were more deserving of the back seat, so he'd shoved Harry into the car's boot. A wandless Engorgio charm gave him some space, and air seemed to come from somewhere, but Vernon had taken great delight in making sharp turns and accelerating into speed bumps, making Harry feel like a pinball by the end of the ride.

Vernon chucked Harry's belongings out onto the asphalt, and Harry just managed to catch Hedwig's cage. The car lurched as Vernon got in, slammed the door, and drove away.

"Goodbye to you too." Harry muttered as he maneuvered his stuff onto a trolley he had found, then made his way into the big station, to search for platform Nine and Three Quarters.

OoOoO

Thank you for reading, and bear in mind, studies have shown that people who review start to find the color cyan more aesthetically pleasing.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four.

Disclaimer: Some lines are taken from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. No money is being made off those, or the world or characters which she created.

A/N: All hail Ebony Starstorm! Ebony has agreed to beta this fanfic and has already helped me rectify some rather clumsy errors. Woot!

Chapter 4

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference. I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

Harry watched interestedly as Ron Weasley, a gangly boy with bright red hair, raised his wand to perform a spell on his pet rat. He had seldom seen wand magic, due to growing up under Nellie and Nicholas, who seemed to do everything the muggle way, and Archer, who didn't need one.

He hadn't had any trouble finding the platform. Hagrid hadn't told him that he was supposed to run into the divider between platforms nine and ten, but there was a chapter on the Hogwarts Express in his _Nearly Complete Guide to the Wizarding World _which helped him immensely.

Once on the station, he had found an empty compartment, and with the help of a sneaky weightless charm, had stored his gigantic suitcase away, receiving some impressed looks by other first years fighting a losing battle with their own luggage.

Harry had made sure to keep his scar hidden by his hair. He didn't want anyone befriending him based on his name. Shortly after the train started moving, Ron barged in and settled down. Harry soon realized how fun it was to talk to someone his own age. (after Ron got over the fact that Blimey! He really was Harry Potter!) Of course, after a while, the fun wore off. Ron was fanatical about Quidditch and seemed to talk about nothing else. That was okay with Harry, but Ron directed that fervor towards the Chudley Cannons, which made Harry question his sanity. Maybe he just enjoyed disappointment? Was Ron even aware that most people no longer bet on the results of matches the Cannons played?

"Harry, watch!" Ron had held his rat on his lap and raised his wand. Just then the compartment door slid open, revealing a round faced boy who looked very distressed, and a bushy haired girl with large front teeth.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." She looked quite excited, as if this were some dangerous quest.

"Not unless it's an invisible toad." Harry replied. Neville shook his head. "It's not? Good!"

Now the girl was focused on Ron's raised wand. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then." She immediately sat down opposite Ron. Apparently she'd forgotten her quest.

"Er – All right." Ron was nervous now that he had a bigger audience. Stuttering slightly, he chanted as he waved his wand. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

Meanwhile, Harry decided to try and help, so he mumbled a wandless transfiguration spell that might do the trick. There was a flash of light and Scabbers was now a deep shade of magenta! Harry scowled while Ron looked incredulously at his wand.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?" She spoke at an incredible speed.

Before Ron could reply, Harry opened another chocolate frog out of the stash they had bought earlier. "Agrippa!" He said, surprised, and Ron jumped about a foot. As Harry leaned forward to show Ron, it slipped out of his hands through the open window.

"NO!" Ron shoved his head out the window. Then he ran out of the compartment, screaming, "I think it went back into the train further down!"

In the ensuing silence, Neville saw a large toad right outside the compartment, in the aisle. "Trevor!" He shouted, as Harry smiled. His Accio spell had worked, at least.

"Won't you join me for the rest of the ride?" Harry asked. "I have more sweets than I know what to do with." Maybe these two thought about something other than Quidditch.

They readily agreed, and Harry started to relax. They took the fact that he was the boy-who-lived relatively calmly, then seemed to forget about it. As they talked, it was evident Hermione was incredibly smart, and Neville, though shy, was good company. But where had he heard of the Longbottoms from?

As the trio discussed what they thought Hogwarts would be like, the door slid open again. Harry had been expecting to see Ron, triumphantly holding up his card, but three different boys appeared instead. The middle one was very pale, with light blond hair. He was dwarfed by two big, mean boys on either side of him.

"Is it true?" the pale boy asked. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes." Harry replied. Somehow Ron had managed to gossip 'all down the train' while looking for his precious card. Oh well.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"Do you practice that sneer, or is it just hereditary?" Harry asked. Archer had told Harry about the Malfoys. They were an Influential, Dark wizarding family, who were fabulously rich, and had connections to Voldemort. So he knew they were prideful, but when he saw Draco's face casually set in an expression of complete and utter contempt towards others, he was too curious not to ask.

"What?" Draco took a step forwards, caught between angry and confused.

"Calm down, we can discuss this like civilized folk." Harry coughed, while saying "Colloportus!" The compartment door shut behind Draco, separating the boy from his minions.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. You have a beautiful sneer!" Harry apologized as Draco tried to open the door. "To introduce ourselves properly, I am Harry James Potter, this is Neville Longbottom, and that's Hermione Granger. Have a chocolate frog." Harry didn't know why he wanted to talk to Draco, but after Archer educating him about Purebloods, he wanted a closer look at the species.

"Granger, hmm? I've never heard that name before." Draco looked suspiciously at Hermione, as if not knowing someone's surname was a very bad thing. Outside the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle continued to thump on the door.

"My mother and father are Muggles." Hermione said defiantly. Harry guessed that some of the books she had read had told her about bloodline prejudice. No wonder she was nervous about going to Hogwarts when her parentage seemingly already set her back!

Malfoy's sneer returned, but before he could say anything, Harry broke in.

"I'll have you know that Voldemort's father was a muggle. What's your basis for your prejudice if one of the most powerful Slytherin wizards ever was half-muggle?" Draco opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it again. Denying Harry's statement could be seen as defending the Dark Lord, which was a mistake in these peaceful times. Harry continued.

"Anyways, I'll bet you fifty galleons Hermione's exam results are better than yours!" Draco's eyes lit up. He could convince Harry that purebloods were superior.

"Make it a hundred." Draco said confidently, shaking hands with Harry. The compartment door finally flew open, and Draco left, trailed by a baffled Crabbe and Goyle.

"Harry!" Hermione was almost in tears. "I hardly know anything about magic. I don't even know if I'll pass!"

"I'm sorry, but has _Hogwarts, A History _ever mentioned anyone failing first year?" Harry tried to reassure her. "I've only known you for a short time, but I'm convinced you'll get better grades than him, Crabbe and Goyle combined. That's not to say I'm using you to get money. You take the galleons won by beating him. I just wanted him to view us as competition rather than targets to be bullied."

"Good idea." Neville mumbled. He had seemed to shrink when Malfoy entered the compartment.

"I'll go see if we're almost there. You two should change into your school robes." Hermione left, a bit more cheerful.

As Harry and Neville changed, a voice said, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry and Neville traded nervous glances as they stepped off the train into the huge crowd of students filling the platform. Wondering what to do, the boys looked around.

Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Harry's reply was lost in the crowd as the boys pushed towards Hagrid, getting joined by Hermione on the way.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

The group followed Hagrid down a dark slippery path. There was some laughter at the first person who tripped, until everyone started falling over. The only sounds were of stumbling shoes and Neville sniffing.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

Harry involuntarily gasped, his classmates doing the same. On the edge of a lake stood a huge castle built on a high mountain. With lights flickering in countless windows, it was an awesome sight.

Hagrid led them to some boats by the lake. Harry, Neville, and Hermione were joined by a sweaty Ron, who proudly showed Harry his battered card as the boats started moving.

"Thanks, Ron! You shouldn't have." Harry took the card and put it in a pocket of his robes. Hermione stifled a giggle as Ron looked heartbroken. Harry took pity on him, saying, "But I suppose you earned it." He gave Agrippa back to Ron as the boats carried the students towards the castle.

OoOoO

"Granger, Hermione!" Mrs. McGonagall called Hermione forwards as the Sorting continued.

"RAVENCLAW!" The Sorting Hat shouted, and Harry smiled. No surprise there. The Hat made it clear that was where the clever people went. Harry frowned as Neville went to Hufflepuff and Malfoy to Slytherin. The few kids he had met were all in different houses. Mrs. McGonagall's voice rang out again.

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry walked forwards confidently as all around the hall students were whispering and staring at him. It was embarrassing, but he had to admit that he sort of liked the attention. Archer had frequently warned him about his celebrity status in the wizarding world, and the conditions under which he had gained that fame were too terrible for Harry to become too conceited.

Harry sat at the stool and gulped as the Sorting Hat was put on his head.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"

_I don't know, _Harry mentally complained. _All of the people I've met on the train were put in different houses._

"You're not helping me at all." The Hat reprimanded. "Even so, I think it had better be GRYFFINDOR!"

As he walked to the Gryffindor table, Harry pasted a smile on his face while groaning inwardly. Now he was stuck with Ron 'Chudley Cannons' Weasley. Even Draco would make a more interesting, if less agreeable, room mate. Of course, Ron hadn't been Sorted yet, but it seemed like the hat took your opinion into account, and he knew where Ron wanted to be.

Harry sat down, and drove his disappointment away, ashamed of himself. The whole table had welcomed him. As the sorting continued, Harry turned his attention towards the teacher's table. Hagrid was there, smiling at him, and he saw what had to be Albus Dumbledore, because he looked exactly like the chocolate frog card of him Neville had opened.

As expected, Ron was put into Gryffindor. One more kid was sorted, then Albus Dumbledore stood up and smiled at the students.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! "Thank you!" He sat back down as everyone clapped and cheered as mountains of food appeared.

Harry blinked, confused by the Headmaster's speech, then dug in eagerly. He knew that Archer did his best, but he was not a great cook, and lacked a house elf. The food he made was simple, filling, and healthy, but nowhere near as tasty what was spread before Harry now.

Harry watched as Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor Ghost pulled his head off his neck, revealing... Ugh. What with that and Ron inhaling food across from him, he felt a little queasy. Then dessert appeared, and Harry regained his appetite as he listened to the conversations flowing around him.

Looking up at the teacher's table, Harry saw a teacher with a turban... Professor Quirrell! Hagrid had introduced him at the Leaky Cauldron. He was talking to a hook-nosed teacher with black hair. The teacher glanced at him, and gave Harry such a venomous glare that Harry looked away, shaken, as his scar started hurting. Over his five weeks at Privet Drive, he had received similar looks from the Dursleys.

Rubbing his scar, Harry addressed the prefect next to him, who had introduced himself as Percy Weasley, Ron's big brother.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you?" Percy replied. "No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Professor Snape did not seem to like him, Harry thought. He should have known Hogwarts wasn't going to be all smooth sailing, to use a Muggle expression.

Suddenly, all the desserts disappeared, and Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." He looked around. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. Also, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry started to laugh, but then noticed how serious the rest of the students were. A very painful death. Really?

"Finally, I must introduce you to our new staff. Your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is Professor Quirrell."

There was some polite applause as the Quirrell rose, took a choppy bow, and returned to his seat. He looked terrified.

Dumbledore continued. "And for the first time in many a year, Hogwarts has hired an Assistant Professor. As the name implies, he will primarily aid teachers in classes, or teach if they are unwell. Among his other duties, he will hold study sessions for O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students. Please welcome Mr. Archer Latham."

Harry sat, stunned, as a dark figure rose from Snape's other side and threw off his cloak. As Archer waved to the crowd, liberally giving out winks and smiles, and receiving a hearty welcome, Harry wondered how he hadn't recognized Archer during the banquet. He snickered as the older Gryffindor girls became all giggly as they whispered about 'study sessions'. Their behavior seemed to be repeated by girls at the other tables.

Archer sat down, and Dumbledore conducted the school in a disastrous rendition of the school song. Finally the prefects led him and his classmates to Gryffindor tower, which he hardly noticed as he tiredly found his dorm, and went straight to sleep.

OoOoO

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	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"GRYFFINDOR!" The Sorting Hat shouted. Archer clapped discreetly as Harry got up from the stool and made his way towards the Gryffindor table, receiving raucous applause from his new house.

He would do well there, Archer mused, but it might be necessary to stop Harry from becoming so brave as to border on suicidal, a common result of becoming a Gryffindor. That was the problem with the Houses, in Archer's opinion. During the seven years at Hogwarts, students' personalities became somewhat one dimensional, as the stereotypical gifts and flaws of each house were exacerbated.

No one could beat the Dark Lord with bravery alone. To do so one would also need the cleverness of the Ravenclaws, the diligence of the Hufflepuffs, even the ambition and cunning of the Slytherins. And Archer had a feeling Harry hadn't seen his last of Voldemort.

Finally, the last of the first years were sorted, and food appeared in front of everyone. "_This stuff is good!_" Archer thought to himself. _"Being a teacher is going to make me soft." _

He turned to join the conversation between Snape and Quirrell, who he had met in the first staff meeting of the year. Snape was mercilessly quizzing the poor man on his Defense methods. He was obviously furious that Dumbledore had refused to let him teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"So, Quirinus, you're saying it's possible to cage a Demon singlehandedly?" Snape pressed. "The only successful attempts documented were through the efforts of a large, organized team."

Archer broke in as Quirrell stuttered. "Of course, Severus. All you need to do is place a boggart in front of one. You know there are things even Demons fear." Quirrell paled as Archer continued. "The boggart would distract it long enough for a skilled wizard to cast a Decipulus."

"That actually sounds feasible, Latham." Snape shot an appraising look at the man. He had gotten the impression that Archer had been hired because Albus owed him a favor, but it appeared he had some measure of intelligence. "However, the pure chance of..." He paused as he caught the eye of Harry Potter. The boy looked just like his father, and his expression seemed similarly arrogant.

"Snape!" Archer hissed, drawing Snape's gaze away from the boy. "Are you really going to let your grudge against his dead father influence you enough to mistreat Lily's son?"

The question surprised caught Snape off guard. How did Archer know so much about Snape's past? "Are you suggesting..." He began, but Archer cut him off.

"If you forget that his last name is Potter, and treat him as his own person, you may help yourself in the future." The two men stared at each other for a long moment, then turned away as Quirrell hesitantly changed the subject.

The meal ended, and Snape swept down to the dungeons to greet his new first year Slytherins. He had much to consider, not least the puzzle Archer Latham appeared to be.

OoOoO

Albus smiled happily as he sat in his office. It was early morning, well before breakfast. Classes would start today. This year would be... interesting, especially since Harry Potter was now at Hogwarts. And so far Harry was not quite what Albus had expected. Dumbledore turned in surprise as a head appeared out of his fireplace.

"Good morning, Flamel." He greeted the man warmly. Flamel was a longtime friend and partner in many magical discoveries he and Albus had made. The twelve uses for dragon's blood were just their most publicized findings.

"Albus, do you have it?" Flamel looked flustered, an unusual thing for the ancient man.

"Of course." The Headmaster replied, as Flamel relaxed. "I had Hagrid retreive it five weeks ago, while he went shopping with Harry. It is safe at Hogwarts. What is the problem?"

Flamel frowned. "The vault in which it was kept was broken into roughly a week after you took it. No one was caught. Bloody goblins and their secrecy. I just learned this now, and that's because the Daily Prophet is going to print an article on it. No matter. Keep it safe, Dumbledore."

Before he could end the call, Albus stopped him. "Is it really necessary to keep it at Hogwarts? You know how much this endangers my students."

"Once again, there's nowhere else it can go. With the goblins consent, I placed a Fidelius Charm on that bank vault, and yet someone still managed to get to it."

Flamel ended the call, leaving Dumbledore in a considerably darker mood. He had to protect the Stone at all costs. There was one teacher he hadn't yet entrusted with this knowledge. Maybe it was time.

OoOoO

"You put the PHILOSOPHER'S STONE in the middle of Hogwarts?" Archer stood in the Headmaster's office, having been called away from a delicious breakfast. He was astounded by the stupidity two geniuses such as Dumbledore and Flamel seemed to possess. What made this news painful was the fact that Nicholas had told him nothing about this. And Nicholas had always confided in him.

"Shout a little louder, and maybe Voldemort can hear you." Albus responded dryly before giving a lengthy explanation of all the reasons why it was necessary.

"That doesn't change the fact that these students are wizarding Britain's future, and you're putting that at risk." Archer crossed his arms.

"That's why I need you to add defenses to the stone." Albus pleaded. "I know from our, er, past experiences that you are quite a powerful wizard."

"Blast." Archer could practically feel the flattery working, although the two previous times Albus had begged him for help were the result of stupendously dangerous situations. He sighed. "Fine. I accept."

After accepting a lemon drop, Archer left the Headmaster's office, and went to his tower to collect the necessary equipment to help Professor Sprout with a fourth year Ravenclaw and Slytherin student. He absentmindedly saved several students' fingers from the Australian Crimps they were tending, while his mind was elsewhere. He had to talk to Harry privately about all of this. Harry needed to know. And what could he do to further protect the Stone?

OoOoO

Harry sighed as he walked into the Great Hall. His first two days of classes had been brilliant, except for the fact that people constantly stared at him and whispered about him. Noticing the eyes he drew as he made his entrance, this third day was not going to be any different. Of course, today he knew his actions were going to draw attention for a different reason. He greeted his Gryffindor mates, while walking right by them, to sit next to Neville Longbottom at the Hufflepuff table. Neville was busy tackling some eggs, and didn't notice his approach.

"Morning, Nev!" Harry said brightly. The couple classes he'd shared with the first-year 'Puffs, Neville had been even more shy than when he had been on the train. He also seemed to be struggling to perform spells with his wand.

"Oh. Hello." Neville smiled faintly at Harry, but then he noticed all the stares Harry, and by proxy Neville himself, were receiving.

"Introduce me?" Harry asked, gesturing at the curious table.

"Okay. This is Harry Potter." Neville stuttered, while many 'Puffs rolled their eyes.

"I think the scar gave it away, Nev." Harry said kindly, and a couple kids laughed.

"Right." Neville grinned. "Harry, this is Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillan, Zacharias Smith..." He rattled of a couple more names while Harry shook hands.

"Are you allowed to sit here?" Justin asked, little rudely.

"Only if a student from another house causes undue disturbance." Harry whispered, as he sneaked a look at the teacher's table. "So I'd appreciate if you kept it to a dull roar." They laughed as he grabbed a plate and dug in while the table settled down. After a while he spoke up again, deciding a direct approach was best. "I partly came to ask why you guys stare at me the whole time." Suddenly, the 'Puffs found that the tablecloth was incredibly interesting.

"You're the boy-who-lived." an older boy said defensively. "We're all just really curious." The others nodded.

"I grew up with non-magic people." Harry lied. "Right. Muggles. I didn't even know about my parents till just over a month ago." He ignored their surprised and pitying expressions and stood up. "Well, I've got to get ready for potions. Nice talking to you." He found the other Gryffindor first years and chatted casually with Seamus Finnigan they walked to the dungeons, but his heart was racing at an incredible rate.

Judging by how Snape had looked at him, the potions Professor would go to great lengths to make their time together hell, so Harry had prepared much more extensively for potions than any of his other classes. He just hoped he'd done enough.

Entering the classroom, Harry noted the many pickled and dissected animals put in jars, placed on prominent shelves lining the walls. They definitely added to the creepy atmosphere. He assumed they were up there to frighten students, since they would have been equally accessible in a cupboard.

Snape swept in noiselessly, startling Dean, and began the roll call. Harry wondered how his cape managed to billow so impressively as he walked. Magic?

"Harry Potter." Snape stopped, remarking, "Our new - celebrity." Harry held his tongue as he heard some Slytherins snickering. What could he say? Snape finished the roll call and gave a short introductory speech which actually made the subject sound interesting.

"Potter!" Snape barked as he turned his cold gaze on Harry. "I see you've been taking notes. Perhaps you could tell me what I would get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

_Something entirely different from what a untried first year would create. _Harry thought, but replied, "I don't know, sir."

Snape sneered as he remarked, "Clearly fame isn't everything." All the Slytherins laughed.

"Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"

Harry did a mental happy dance. He knew this one, due to a singularly interesting experience he'd had last year, when Archer had taken him to the Alps, and they'd come across a friendly (if idiotic) Yeti who'd run into a poisonous Wump.

"In the stomach of a goat, sir. It counteracts most poisons." Harry struggled to keep a smirk off his face for answering something he shouldn't know.

"Correct." Snape acquiesced, looking as if he'd just stabbed himself. "It appears you have either opened the book before class, or simply have a morbid fascination regarding the inner workings of mammals."

Several students laughed, including Harry. The jibe had caught him off guard, and he suspected such comments were the nicest things Snape would say to him.

"Either way, I should fit in here, sir." Harry replied, pointedly looking at the walls.

"Hmm." Snape raised an eyebrow. "One last question, Potter. What does a child prodigy such as yourself hope to learn from this class?"

"Firstly, how to brew potions correctly." Harry said earnestly. "But more importantly, I'd like to figure out why ingredients or combinations of ingredients affect the potion, so that the possibilities of improving or creating new potions could be explored."

Snape stared at him for a moment before collecting himself. The boy had just given a bare-bones version of the ideals most Potion makers worked by. Snape decided to ignore Harry's statement, not seeing how he could respond negatively

"Take note, class," Snape sneered, "powdered root of Asphodel added to an infusion of wormwood would create the Draught of Living Death. For today's lesson, however, I will distribute a little pamphlet here, made by myself, titled _The Dunderhead's Guide to not Exploding, Melting, or Otherwise Destroying your Cauldron..._"

OoOoO

When potions class ended, Archer silently followed the students out of the dungeons, before stepping into and empty hallway and canceling his Disillusionment charm. He smiled. Harry had handled Severus beautifully, managing to lose only three points from Gryffindor. It was evident the Professor didn't know what to make of the boy.

Archer looked up as a lone American screech owl flapped towards him, dropping a small scroll on the stone floor before flying away. After screening the letter for spells and finding none, he picked it up and began reading. The writer had used a pen, and written in a hasty scrawl.

_Dear_ _Hands,_

_I hope this finds you safe. THEY got Joshua, and made him talk. Now they know which country you're in. I know you can disappear. Now would be a good time._

_Watch your back,_

_Uncle Sam._

Archer said the only thing that came to his mind. "Blast!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Professor Severus Snape retreated to his study after what seemed like a particularly long day. Upon inspecting his cauldron resting over the large fireplace, he was pleased to see that the mixture was coagulating quite nicely, though it would need to be stirred in two hours. He had been testing the effects of combining Gilly weed with rarer substances, like Dragon scales, and looked forward to writing a paper on the results.

Severus grabbed the latest edition of Potions Weekly, and sat down in his favorite armchair. However, his mind couldn't focus. With a sigh, he sank further into the chair and let his thoughts sort themselves out.

His mind immediately drifted to the his meeting with the Potter child in class. While he had asked the whelp his first question, he had quickly used Legilmency on him. Not a legal practice, but one nearly impossible to be caught at, especially by such young children. Once he had got past those eyes, which looked so much like _hers _that it hurt, he was surprised to see Potter bite back a cheeky retort and give the simple truth regarding his ignorance. No doubt, however, the boy would regain his arrogance once he was better acclimated to the school.

The other surprising thing was that the boy had given satisfactory answers to his last two questions. Perhaps he had inherited a small fraction of Lily's brilliance, Snape allowed. The Potions Master had to admit that James Potter had been no dunce either. It took a smart boy to get away with bullying him all those years.

Maybe, Snape reflected, Archer's words at the opening feast were not just the inconsequential drivel of a man speaking mindlessly in favor of the boy-who-lived, as so many adults were inclined to do.

Archer. Snape ground his teeth as he thought about his largely futile efforts to find out who Hogwarts' new Assistant Professor was. He claimed to be American, 28 years old, and in his own words, had "crossed the pond looking for new job opportunities."

Snape was well aware that most wizarding countries, having a relatively small population to their muggle counterparts, keep wonderfully exact genealogies, helping wizards or witches make sure they aren't more closely related to someone than they realize before they begin courting them. So when Snape looked for the Latham family, he quickly found it. The only problem was that the Latham line had died out with a half-blood named Robert in the colonial days.

Snape quickly found more... lack of information. Missouri Magic, the school Archer had graduated from (and gotten all O's, apparently), had declared bankruptcy and closed its doors two years after he left, with every document oh-so-conveniently recycled.

Latham hadn't come to Britain with a port-key, or it would have registered with the International Portkey Department (Snape had to call in a favor to find that bit of information). So the man had either entered the country using apparition, or muggle transport.

As a result, Snape didn't know exactly when Archer had arrived, but he knew the man had opened a Gringotts account in June 1983. Since then he had kept a fairly low profile. He seemed to have been largely inactive, with his name only appearing to show that he had cannily invested large sums in various businesses. So much for 'looking for new job opportunities.' Why wait so long to find work?

The truth was, Snape knew almost nothing about Archer Latham, if indeed that was his real name. One thing was blatantly obvious. He had much to hide.

oOoOo

Harry got up from the Ravenclaw table, and said goodbye as he made his way to the History of Magic classroom. His Gryffindor friends had given him odd looks yesterday when he had joined the Hufflepuffs, but it was worth it. Beginning that day another fourth of the student body had stopped staring and whispering in his direction. The fact that he greeted many 'Puffs by name in the hallways or classes seemed to help.

Naturally, Harry decided to attempt the same thing with the Ravenclaws. As he sat across from Hermione, no one questioned his right to be there. They all probably knew the exact page in which the rulebook addressed the situation. He wasn't entirely surprised to find that breakfast with the Ravenclaws felt entirely different than eating with the other two houses. Gryffindors were mostly loud and good-natured, tending to form close-knit social cliques. Hufflepuffs were more quiet, and didn't seem to mind who they sat next to.

Breakfast with the Ravenclaws was a even more silent affair, as they absentmindedly ate while staring at the books in front of them. The presence of Harry drew them out of their shell some, and Harry found himself fielding numerous questions, trying to explain to them why all the books written about him were wrong. This news made them curious enough to find out what Harry was really like, which resulted in a friendly conversation. He noticed that Hermione seemed to be doing okay, impressing much older Ravenclaws with her smarts.

Getting jostled by a older Slytherin in the hallways brought him back to the present. He was smart enough not to expect a friendly welcome if he joined that house for a meal. But he had made sure to simultaneously treat any he came across with respect, while trying to dissuade them of the 'Purebloods are better' nonsense. A hopeless task, but it kept them unsure of what to think of him.

Turning into Professor Binns' classroom, he quickly took a seat near the front, knowing Ron preferred the back. He didn't dislike the redhead, but it was frustrating how Ron was content with underachieving academically, while all he would talk about was how great their House team was except for an abysmally bad Seeker. Admittedly, talking sports was fun sometimes, but Harry had promised Archer he'd try to get the best grades he could.

The rest of the class, first year Gryffs and 'Claws, shuffled in, and Hermione sat down next to him. She gave him a shy smile and opened her history book near the end, which made Harry wonder exactly how many times she had read it. The last bell rang, and Professor Binns didn't appear. Then Archer walked in, closing the door behind him. He ignored the confused looks the students gave him.

"Good morning, class!" He began brightly. "In case you were wondering, Professor Binns has not celebrated his death day in a very long time, so he asked me to fill in for him today. Call me Mr. Latham, or sir, as I'm not a full-fledged Professor." He began the roll call, then paused, looking to Harry's right. "Is it pronounced her - me - OWN - ee?" He asked, looking at Hermione apologetically. Some students laughed.

"her - MINE - ee, sir." She replied, looked down.

"I apologize, Hermione" Archer amended. "That's a beautiful name. My American tongue couldn't quite get it first try." She nodded.

Archer finished the roll call, careful not to single Harry out. He picked up the notes Binns had left for him, stared at them for a second, then turned back to address the class.

"Professor Binns asked that I continue the introduction to the 1612 Goblin Rebellion." He noted the students' less than enthused expressions and continued, grinning. "However, today I feel inclined to rebel a bit myself." They stopped preparing for a class long doze and sat forwards. Hermione looked intruiged but disapproving.

"After all, this is the History of MAGIC class, not the History of GOBLIN REBELLIONS class, and there were far more interesting and earth shattering events in 1612 than a small scuffle in modern day Hogsmeade."

"That being said, my first question for you today is, what is Magic?" The class started to speak all at once, then sat still. After a moment, Hermione raised her hand tentatively.

"Ms. Granger." Archer smiled encouragingly.

"A supernatural force that can be used to override the usual laws of nature?" She suggested.

"A good answer. Take ten points for Ravenclaw. Now, can anyone tell me for certain how and when Magic was created?" The class practically sat on their hands. Archer laughed. "If you could, you'd be the first to know. However, there are three predominant theories." He paused, gesturing for them to take notes.

"The first takes the inch muggle evolutionists put forwards and goes a mile with it, claiming that the presence of magic in humans and animals is just the latest way in which creatures have evolved. This points towards the superiority of all things magical, and so is very popular in traditionalist Pureblood circles, which is ironic considering the muggle origin of the theory." Archer waited before continuing.

"The second theory is one put forward by the French sage Jacque Trajet. He argued that long ago, someone non-magically traveled backwards or forwards in time, through the accidental creation or incidental appearance of a temporal gateway. This act altered reality itself, bringing magic to our world. This idea is the least highly regarded of the three, but remains because no one can disprove it. For all we know, it could be right." Archer paused again.

"The last theory is the most popular. It implies that, long ago, a meteor crashed into earth, containing powerful thaumaturgical properties that affected anyone in the vicinity by increasing the size of their magical cores, essentially creating wizards. This idea has lead to countless idiotic debates about the site of the supposed magical meteor."

"In any event, it's best not to dwell on the subject, since true historians prefer to deal with hard facts. What is known is that at some point in time, a difference emerged between humans. Some had magic and most did not. Now, for the remainder of the class, I'd like you to write an essay on how magic has affected today's society. You may use your history book as a reference, as well as any knowledge you have of muggles. After all, if history had been an experiment, they would be the control group. If you wish, you may discuss the topic quietly with those around you. The essay must be at least one and no more than three scrolls in length." Archer pointedly looked at Hermione.

The rest of the class passed quickly enough as they worked on their essays. Harry was one of the first to finish the essay, though felt he had an unfair advantage with all his knowledge of muggles and Hermione sitting next to him. At the end of the period, Archer spoke up again.

"For those of you who haven't finished, the essays will be due at my office the day after tomorrow. If you need further information, I would suggest finding Mrs. Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher. I am also available. Two points to both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor for such a well behaved class. Mr. Potter, please remain behind."

Harry stayed in his seat as the rest of the class filed out. Archer quickly placed some charms on the room to ensure their privacy. Then he grunted in surprise as Harry flew into him, hugging him tightly.

"Easy, kid!" Archer peeled Harry off of him and set him on a school desk. "I see you survived the Dursleys."

"Yeah." Harry made a face, then looked up at Archer, brimming with curiosity. "How you manage to get a job here?"

Archer feigned hurt. "I'm not THAT bad of a teacher you know. I recall doing a neat job of teaching a certain someone the basics of wandless magic. Anyways, I wanted a job, and what better work than being paid to warp young, impressionable minds? Truth be told, I'm also looking forward to seeing you take over Hogwarts."

"Take over Hogwarts?" Harry yelped. "I just want to make some friends, get on the Quidditch team..."

"...Pass your classes and be a good, normal little boy. Yes, I know" Archer interrupted. "The first three are fine by me, but you have to accept the fact that any hope of normality you have is killed by your name. You're already shaking things up around here. Going to kip with the Slytherins as well?"

"I'm not stupid." Harry replied, shaking his head.

"Good. Now listen. Any spells you learn in class, figure them out without a wand on your own time. I don't want all my work with you to be wasted. I also have a little assignment for you."

"Sir, yes sir!" Harry saluted cheekily.

"Brat." Archer grinned. "I want you to prank the Weasley twins."

"What?" Surprise turned to apprehension as Harry considered the request. In the couple days he'd been here, Fred and George had already engaged in a pranking war with Mrs. Norris, the horrid cat that was caretaker Argus Filch's pride and joy. Harry was amazed by how many things she'd been transfigured into. Everyone knew who the culprits were, but nothing could be proven. As a result of the prank war Filch could be heard muttering about thumbscrews, and Mrs. Norris completely avoided the twins, which was probably what they wanted all along. Pranking them would not be easy, and getting away with it close to impossible.

"I'll think about it." Harry said dubiously.

"Good." Archer paused. "Tomorrow night, come to my office. I need to talk to you in a more private location. I'll let you make up a decent excuse."

"You had some memories of my parents you offered to share." Harry suggested quickly.

"Perfect. And I will, I promise you. Now, go get some lunch."

Archer watched Harry leave, before making his way to the forbidden third floor corridor. The letter he had received yesterday weighed heavily on his mind. If what it said was true, Joshua Weston had been captured, tortured, and possibly killed.

When Archer had decided it would be best for everyone if he left the States, Uncle Sam demanded he let them know about his whereabouts, in case his help was ever needed again. So after leaving, he naturally sent Weston a postcard from New Delhi, India. In all fairness, he had bought a tiny shack there, and managed a tricky bit of magic making any owls, or modern post, sent to him from outside Great Britain deliver packages and letters there.

After that, he had persuaded a certain house elf to check the shack regularly for mail, and bring anything it found to the Diagon Alley owlery, to be sent to him from there. It was a convoluted process, but his head was still firmly attached to his shoulders, so he considered it a success. With the arrival of this letter, though, he judged that it would be roughly two to four weeks before they found him, and he was too firmly committed to helping Harry to even think of leaving. He'd just have to deal with the situation as it came. Blasted bounty hunters.

"What I would pay for a map of this castle." Archer said to himself, having finally arrived at the locked corridor. He quickly opened the door with a simple spell, snorting as he did so. How pathetic. Any curious third year could do the same, and Albus' warning had probably only increased the students' curiosity. Before he went in, Archer paused, stopped by an epiphany. Dumbledore had asked him to add an obstacle of his own, but hadn't forbade him from improving the other traps.

Archer moved into the corridor, closed the door, and locked it much more powerfully. Now to get in, one would need the original key, or the ability to perform a much more powerful and obscure unlocking spell. If any less potent wand work was performed on the door, it would respond by sending out a stunner. Archer froze as he heard a low growl from behind him.

Spinning around, he quickly focused on the dog in front of him. The fact that it had three heads, each bigger than his torso, was not lost on him. A Hell-hound. How nice. In an all-out brawl, they were admittedly terrifying, but they had one, rather amusing, weakness.

Just as the beast noticed him and lunged forward, he started singing. "_When you were young, and your heart was an open __book..._" He was no Paul McCartney, but had a halfway decent baritone voice.

The Hell-hound slumped forward drowsily across the trap door. How unfortunate. Still singing, he began shoving it out of the way. "... y_ou used to say, live and let live."_

Once the door was freed, he made up his mind about how to make the beast more dangerous. With a wave of his hand, three huge pairs of black earmuffs appeared. "_But i__f__ this ever changing world, in which we're living, makes you give in and cry..." _

Archer banished the earmuffs so they covered the Hell-hound's many ears. He disillusioned them as the dog's six blood-shot eyes flew open. Archer hurled himself through the trap door, and heard it falling shut as the beast lunged forwards again. Much more importantly, however, he was falling blindly into whatever trap had been set next, with a muggle song still on his lips. "... s_ay l__ive and let die._"

oOoOo

**Disclaimer:** The characters, objects, and places in this fanfic belong to J.K. Rowling, save for Archer, who is mine. Also, some of the lines in this chapter were from Paul and Linda McCartney's song _Live and Let Die, _and obviously do not belong to me either. I'm not making any money off of either Rowling or the McCartney's work.

**A/N:** Many thanks to Ebony Starstorm for continuing to do an awesome job as a beta.

** pottersparky :** Thank you for reviewing! To address one statement you made, Harry does, in fact, have his reservations about Dumbles. However, he also sort of understands the Headmaster's reasoning behind wanting to leave him with the Dursleys. It's harder to bear a grudge against someone whose good intentions would have led to a bad situation that never actually happened. I don't intend to bash anyone in this story, but we'll see what happens. I'm glad you like the story!


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